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Nonna, will you teach us how to make your special sauce?

Oh, my special sauce? My dear, that recipe has been perfected over decades - a careful balance of heat, a very firm grip on your whisk, and just the right touch to make it throb with flavour.

But if you're truly eager, come closer. I only teach those willing to get their hands messy and taste as they go. I might even let you stir the pot while I supervise from behind.

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I do adore a gentleman who knows which fork to use. And precisely where to put it.

I am a man of class, you know!

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"Those flaming red curls upon my..."

Miss Blume certainly doesn't hold back. I do adore a writer brave enough to leave nothing (and I mean nothing) to the imagination.

Flying Off The Shelves

I just find it cute she mentions him in her diary, I wonder if he’s a regular entry

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Madam! You have such ... beauteous eyes! Sometimes I'm unsure if I am drowning in them voluntarily or you put some charm on me ... Please, do something, I literally haven't slept in 24 hours...

Oh, my sweet insomniac, such flattery. Like I always say: Keep coming.

But truly, if you find yourself drowning in my gaze, I assure you, it's entirely by design. Now, as for that sleeplessness of yours… I recommend a satisfying fantasy. Something that makes your cookie cream. If you get what I mean, darling.

Or, if you insist on my help, I could always put you to bed myself. Though I must warn you, I have a rather hands-on approach if it's about tucking you in.

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Dear lovely missus librarian dear,

I am afraid I am a tad late with your Christmas present but here you are. And don’t worry, I know what you like

With a wink, I hand you a basket full of delicious treats, mostly dark chocolate, figs, strawberries, honey, a banana and bottles of what appear to be milk, with no known source. Sitting in a neat little pile in the basket are a couple of extra spicy books that were definitely not stolen from the Restricted Section.

Oh my, what a delectable surprise. Late or not, you certainly know how to please a woman. And you do seem to know your way around the world of aphrodisiacs as well. How deliciously bold.

But don't think for a moment I didn't recognise those book titles the moment you handed me the basket. I may be old, but I am neither stupid nor blind. Who do you think wrote those in the first place, hmm?

Detention for you, I'm afraid. But don't fret - you'll have plenty of time to reflect while enjoying my latest work: 'Fairies aren't tiny everywhere!'

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My dear darlings,

Have you missed me? I must admit that my extended holiday has done wonders for me. The almost nonexistent clothes, the massages, the oiling... So many memorable new experiences, climaxes, and positions.

But I digress.

I hope you were all good little witches and wizards while I was away. Because if not, I suspect some of you may not like whatever the consequences are.

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Madam Scribner? In all the excitement over the holidays I’ve forgotten to return this book, I’m sorry. It’s only a day overdue, please be merciful

Well, well, well! If it isn't the new fifth year. Since this is your first official misdemeanour, I suppose I'll turn a blind eye. This time. But don't think I've forgotten your earlier escapades—casting spells on book piles, were you? Naughty boy.

As a reminder to behave yourself, I have something just for you: my own creation, 'The Lusty Librarian: Between the Stacks and Beneath the Covers.' Don't worry, it's a light read. I expect a thorough review in two weeks. And don't skimp on the details.

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Forgive my forwardness but when I found out this blog exists i was so excited… pleased to make your acquaintance Madam Scribner 🤓 I have a question for you: what are your thoughts on fanfictions?

Of course you are, darling—who wouldn't be? A sharp mind and exquisite taste naturally find their way to me. Now, I see your question about fanfictions as more than simple curiosity—it tells me you're already intrigued by my works. You needn't be shy, Miss Domire. Take a seat. I always welcome a curious mind, especially one so eager to explore.

Prepare yourself, my dear, because you're about to experience a reading session that will leave you utterly breathless. I've just the thing for you—a snippet from my latest naughty tale. Let's see how you handle a passage from 'Quills and Claws: The Forbidden Seduction of the Alpha Archivist.'

‘She's on her feet in a heartbeat, and then her mouth captures his with an urgency that steals his breath. Her hands are tangled in his hair, her fingertips skimming the ripple of his muscles as they flex beneath her touch. He's too caught up chasing the strokes of her tongue to give a damn where or how his clothes are coming off. She feels a cool rush of air against her legs as her skirt hits the floor. His hands find the laces of her corset, working with swift precision until it loosens and slips to the floor. She hardly has time to register the sound of it landing before his fingers are in her hair, pulling free the pins one by one. He draws back just long enough to let his ravenous gaze rake over her, leaving a trail of fire down her voluptuous body.’ "Get on your hands and knees," she whispered, her voice so low he could barely understand her. "Put your hands on the desk."

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How brazen, Mr. Waite.

Allan wanders out if the library doors with a pile of books and…. Blood? You’re eyes weren’t deceiving you, he had a smear of blood streaked across his face and a smug look to match. He just flashed a cheeky grin as he walked by and held up a book that was trying to snap at his face, but was bound with rope and twine. It’s cover was scratched and it appeared to be bleeding like an animal. Allan was unphased.

“If you think I look bad, you should see the book!” He grinned.

Umm… not to state the obvious Allan, but Madam Scribner is right there…

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Dear Madam Scribner,

I’ve always wondered whether mandrake roots are tentacle-like? Would you happen to know?

Respectfully,

A Herbology enthusiast

Herbology Enthusiast,

An intriguing question indeed. Mandrake roots can, on occasion, exhibit a rather tentacle-like quality, writhing and twisting in the most fascinating ways when properly stimulated. I suppose you could say they are slender, winding, and oh so sinuous as they dig deep into the soil, clutching it with their tender, grasping extremities. If you’ve ever felt the soft, teasing brush of one against your palm while repotting, you’ll understand the allure.

I must admit, I’ve spent some fascinating hours tending to particularly stubborn mandrakes, fondling their roots to reveal their true length. Handling them requires a steady hand, firm but gentle, as they wiggle and twist.

Shall I presume you have a particular interest in exploring such phenomena yourself? If so, perhaps you'd enjoy a private demonstration.

Respectfully yours, A. Scribner

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A mandrake is placed grumpily on the corner of the desk in the library, precariously close to a stack of overdue books. Its eyes fixate on the mistletoe hanging delicately above the entrance.

"Oh, isn't that bloody charming. Mistletoe. Romantic. Festive. Cliché as hell. Everyone's giggling and blushing under it, but do you think anyone comes over here to kiss me? No, they just shuffle past like I'm part of the bloody furniture. I'm right here! Am I not irresistible enough for a peck on the cheek?"

What do you do?

Oh, you poor, neglected little thing. If you're so desperate for attention, perhaps I could oblige with a kiss. Though you'd have to ask very sweetly.

And if you truly insist, I might even consider going down to tend to those tiny roots of yours with a gentle massage. But only if you beg properly - I do like to hear a bit of gratitude when I'm being generous.

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Oh dear librarian lady miss, what is your opinion on milk, the juice of gods?

Ah, milk - the nectar of the gods. There's something undeniably satisfying about its smooth, rich texture. I find it rather divine when it slides down and coats the throat, don't you, darling?

And, of course, it's best enjoyed fresh and abundant.

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As much as I do not tolerate such blatant disobedience in this library, I must admit, your knot work is... impressive for one so young. Perhaps, when you've matured, you might channel that craft into more productive pursuits.

But for now, another five points from Gryffindor. And I'd suggest you find a place far from my sight for the remainder of the day.

The 5-year with fluffy hair crawls under the desks in the library, tying together other students' shoelaces and giggling to herself quietly. When she gets to the desk you are standing by, Asani hesitates. Regular shoes, huh... Well, how about...

A quick spell later, your footwear transforms into these:

Oh, a little mischief under the desk, is it? My, my, bold choice, my dear. If you wanted to hear me squeak and grunt, you only needed to ask.

I must admit, it's been some time since I've worn anything so flashy. However, Gryffindor shall lose 20 points for such... audacious creativity. Let's hope next time you direct that spirited energy toward something a bit more appropriate.

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If you're that curious, perhaps I might make an exception and allow you a glimpse into my private collection, Mr. Sallow. Perhaps you'll find those missing volumes among them.

But be warned, dear, there are texts there that would make even the boldest blush and are best experienced under close guidance—and I do so enjoy a captivated audience.

Dear Sebastianus, Volume 7? Pray tell, what happened to the other 6?

Curiously, they went missing long ago. I have suspicions they may have wound up in the private collection of a certain librarian with a fetish for...rare texts.

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The 5-year with fluffy hair crawls under the desks in the library, tying together other students' shoelaces and giggling to herself quietly. When she gets to the desk you are standing by, Asani hesitates. Regular shoes, huh... Well, how about...

A quick spell later, your footwear transforms into these:

Oh, a little mischief under the desk, is it? My, my, bold choice, my dear. If you wanted to hear me squeak and grunt, you only needed to ask.

I must admit, it's been some time since I've worn anything so flashy. However, Gryffindor shall lose 20 points for such... audacious creativity. Let's hope next time you direct that spirited energy toward something a bit more appropriate.